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From: apuleius@poboxes.com (Apuleius of Madaura)
Subject: RP: Innocent Days by James Medley (MFF stroke)
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Reposter's Note: How this story came to be in Celeste's Top 100 of 1995
I have no idea, given its cliche-ridden prose; perhaps her standards
were lower then :-) I am not the author of this story, obviously.

- Apuleius

------------------------------------

Innocent Days
By James Medley



I wasn't really a slut. My husband was in Viet Nam, fighting for the
American Way. But it seemed to have changed during his absence. All this
sexual revolution stuff. It touched me in an unusual manner. 

We had rented an ancient trailer in one of those older trailer parks
that were not mobile home communities. It sat out on a little creek in
southern Mississippi. I'd barely gotten to know my neighbors before my
husband, Lance was called up. Those were lonely days for me. It was fall
and there was a chill in the air, as cold as my bed was at night. I was
only nineteen, and my teenage juices were running like the sap in
spring. 

One afternoon, after I'd been alone about a month, a man who lived
further back into the park, asked me if I would like to pick pecans with
him. I was hanging clothes on the community line and he introduced
himself as Earl. I shook hands with him and told him mine was Elizabeth.
"My wife's got a busted leg," he'd said. "But she can make a damn fine
pecan pie. 'Preciate your help." 

Without too much thought about it, I agreed. Earl seemed like a
nice-enough man; in his thirties, square-jawed and handsome in a rugged
way. His sandy hair was too long for my taste, but his eyes were warm
and brown. He looked like an aging hippie, except that he wore khaki
pants and a red flannel shirt, was clean and neatly dressed. There was a
beery smell about him however, a masculine musk. "I'll just change out
of this dress," I said. 

"No need, Elizabeth," Earl said. "You won't get dirty." I followed Earl
through what he referred to as the south meadow, really a collection of
pokeberry weeds and Queen Ann's lace bushes. By the time we reached the
pecan grove, my yellow dress was stained with the dark red juices of the
pokeberries. 

"We have to shake the pecans loose," Earl said. "You're small, can you
climb the tree?" I felt a warmth spreading in my lower belly, a heat
between my legs. We were all alone and his smile was soft and easy. He
appeared slightly drunk. 

The pecans clattered like dried castanets in the chill wind as he lifted
me into the fork of one giant old pecan tree. His hands around my waist
felt big and the strength in his arms was amazing. Then he stabilized my
footing by holding my ankles to each side of the forked branches. I was
painfully conscious of my underwear being visible to him below. I hadn't
worn a slip, just my bra and panties. 

I felt his grip tighten as I attempted to scale the rough bark of the
limb on my right. Then of his hand moving higher, to my calf. A gentle
pressure, an upward bunching of my muscle. My foot slipped. His hand did
not hold me upright, rather, it slid further up my leg to just above the
knee. 

Was it me? Did I truly not know what was happening, what I was doing as
I lowered myself to his sliding palm? Earl's hands felt rough and
calloused as they slid up my legs to the fork of my own body, inverted
branches like the pecan tree's. I honestly don't know. I don't remember
or don't wish to remember how much resistance I put up as his large,
warm hand cupped my mound. 

But I do remember the feeling of helplessness to control what was
happening to my body. And therein lay the key to my sense of wantonness.
Because my body reacted willfully on its own, a traitorous desire
against my mind, betraying my expressed fidelity. 


"Ah, Bethy," he whispered. "So beautiful." Caressing. Touching. Feeling.
My young juices sloshed about in my budding vulva of their own volition.
I was powerless to stop the need. Not a word was spoken as I lowered my
bottom onto his waiting hand. My vagina was wet, palpitating with animal
need. 

He slipped my underpants to one side and his finger slid into me easily.
My legs trembled and my feet slipped further down the branches of the
tree. He was in me all the way and he slipped a second finger into my
slickened pussy. 

I looked down. Growing from his khaki clad groin, his erection appeared
immense. He stroked himself as he worked his finger in me. My juices
soiled his hand when he withdrew and a spreading patch of moisture wet
his groin. He lifted me and lay me flat on my back. 

I was speechless and crossed my arms over my heaving breasts
protectively. I had never encountered such apparent male rutting lust as
he exuded. "No!" I exclaimed as firmly as I could muster. 

Earl used his eyes like weapons, like staccato gun fire, a bursting
fusillade of meanings, literally filling the air between us as he
uttered the single word,"Yes." And then they softened, drew me in. I
fell tumbling headlong into those warm eyes which replaced the blazing
contrails of his lust. Something like an ensheathing glove of soft flesh
crept up my body, setting every raw red nerve on edge. I teetered on
some brink of myself for only a moment longer. It seemed as though a
numbness overcame me, a blurring in my eyes and a deep thrumming in my
head. I sighed. 

Earl knelt down on the ground beside me and put his hands on his hips
like a marine drill sergeant. "Take my cock out and suck it for me," he
ordered in the manner of that same simile, although a little slurred. 

In my own defense, I was terrified. I'm a slight person, weighing
between one-twenty and one-twenty five all my life. My husband had
referred to me as "wren-like", and I can't argue with that description.
My long blond hair was what he'd said had made him fall in love with me.


My hands shook as I fumbled with his zipper. When I succeeded in
dragging Earl's dick out, I thought my heart would burst out of my
chest. He had an uncut fire hose for a penis and as much foreskin as
I've ever seen on any man. His uncircumcised skin formed a huge nozzle
over the flaring knob and lubricating drool oozed out in copious
amounts. His penis was veiny and the shaft was like a roadmap of bluish
worms. 

"Skin me back," Earl mumbled. His sweetish breath was hot in my face.
His penis felt feverish in my hand. I clutched the shaft and pulled back
his skin, feeling like thick rubber and slippery on the bone. I felt his
flesh skimming over the veins as I drew back his foreskin and unhooded
his bright red knob. He was lubricating as much as some men come,
drooling strands of clear oil actually dripping from his maleness. 

"Lick on it, open your pretty lips and suck me," he whispered. My
husband had asked me to suck him off one time, and I'd tried, not really
wanting to. But I found myself actually craving to taste this man's
cock. So I sank my mouth down onto his penis and held my fist against my
lips, stroking up and down as I sucked slowly on the blood-engorged
shank of his incredible maleness. His lubricating juice was mellow on my
tongue. He sighed contentedly. 

Then he reached over and caressed my breasts through the the thin
material of my yellow dress which had fallen slightly open. My nipples
stiffened inside my brassier, and he pinched and twisted them gently
between his fingers. He held his oversized penis in his fist and
growled, "I want to fuck you, Elizabeth." 

I could only bite my lips and quiver. He pulled open the buttons of my
dress and dug his calloused palms into my cleavage, began to chew his
way to my breasts. His breath assaulted my senses as I thrashed in his
grasp. I was no match for his absolute insistence and though I attempted
to stop myself, I felt my body trembling under his heated mouth. He
removed my bra and roughly pushed my panties down to my ankles. I was
the one who kicked them off. 

As if under a spell, I slumped in his embrace and allowed him to caress
my belly, my breasts, down, down between my legs, his hand gently sought
my warmth, my juices flowing. I was powerless. I must continue to
reaffirm that, I must say it again and again. If only for myself. I was
powerless. 

I allowed my legs to be stretched open on the ground where he tenderly
licked between my thighs, up and down, nibbling on the insides, his
tongue a heated organ. In all honesty, I was wet for him. I splayed my
legs as wide as they would go and pulled his head to my center. His
darting tongue was like a squirming fish at my hole, feasting inside my
vaginal lips. I arched my spine and gave myself to him. 

He came off me and his lips were moist and hot as he kissed me and I
tasted the juices of myself. I sucked out his tongue. He grappled with
his pants and pushed them down below his ass. He penetrated my clitoris
like a succulent clam, his penis moist and dripping juices, near
liquefying my vagina. And I likened his gentle coupling to the sea, a
wash of soft foamy waves, cresting and breaking over me. The very air
was suffused with such humidity, it was as if I drowned in him, his
vastness like the ocean's, tossing and rolling on the heaving body of
water I had become. 

Indeed his body seemed of the sea, his gonads, growing like treasures
from the sea; oysters, scallops, the yielding firmness of unshelled
mussels. He smelled and tasted eternal like the sea, liquid and saline,
moist juices in unexpected places, faintly sea-weedish, salty shoreline
smells wafting from every pore. He had clam-like buttocks of dewy
assflesh, smooth as the skin of an eel's as I pulled him into me. 

And it. That. That which penetrated me relentlessly, which rode me like
a wanton hag, seared my nether depths with a burning intensity unlike
any I'd experienced in my life. Sheathed inside my trembling body like a
great ship mooring to harbor, skillfully docking with a precision as
though this man knew the deepest pits of my being and played them like a
mighty orchestra. Then a single willing instrument. 

Earl played my body like a guitar and my heart like a violin. His round
ass-globes, flexing, alternately taut and relaxed, driving me, driving
himself, driving us, over the precipice of simple sex and down into a
veritable pit of lust. His rough, calloused hands stroked my heaving
breasts, the scabbed flesh of their palms, drawing my nipples to ever
greater sensitivity. I felt every scabrous inch of skin tingle
throughout my entire midsection and there was no patch of my flesh left
unaroused. 

I consigned myself to dying in this man's arms. Again and again he
brought me up and spilling out in jerking spasms of a turbulent climatic
fury, only to ebb then surge anew with ever increasing intensity, like a
performing puppet, yanked this way and that by a demented puppeteer, I
came time and time again in his arms. His cock battered my depths. 

Earl fed on my body as an animal might, seeming to draw sustenance from
each shuddering release, goading him to greater heights of endurance.
Then he frantically jabbed and mercilessly stabbed at my clitoris,
making me come in stuttering bursts as he pumped my trigger like an
automatic rifle. And when his shattering ejaculation filled me, I began
hopelessly sobbing. Whether at myself or him, I would be unable to say. 

And oh, Lord, what the man did with me then. With a sure knowledge far
beyond anything I'd experienced with my husband, he took me into the
gloriously sun-washed realms of anti-climactic ecstasy. No man had ever
had the prescience to do this before, or rather, not the desire or
knowledge that a woman can respond in this manner. But almost as if Earl
were a woman, he sensed every nuance of that part of me lying fallow
beyond the physical repletion. Far past the exhausted reservoirs of
sexual contentment, Earl led me through tunnels and alleyways of myself
that even I had been unaware of. This was more than the delicate
stroking and tender murmuring he kept washing into my ears in a steady
flowing stream like the warmest of honey. More it was as if he became
part of me. 

Afterward, we lay there in the chill, and I felt remorseful. "Now let's
get them pecans," he said, playfully tousling my hair. "And then
tonight, you're gonna come over to taste the best pie you ever had." 

I must have been the most naive woman in the world, because when I
arrived at Earl and Judy's trailer, they were both clad in only their
underwear. And I thought it merely odd. Judy wore a filmy and
transparent slip, red, her single piece of lingerie. She had a knee
brace on her left leg, so Earl had been truthful about that. I could see
the dark mass of her pubic patch as she welcomed me into the tiny living
room. She was a petite lady, around thirty and her coal-black hair fell
in soft coils over her shoulders. She wore a pink lipstick, making her
fleshy lips look moist and wet. There was a knowing gleam in her
penetrating, near-black eyes. 

"Why don't you make yourself comfortable, honey," Judy said, nodding at
my skirt and white blouse. "Earl's told me a lot about you." 

He couldn't have! Surely not, I thought. Told her he'd fucked me! If
anything, their trailer was smaller than mine, with only a single couch
to be seen. Judy guided me to it and sat me squarely in the middle, she
and Earl sitting to each side. If there had been any doubt in my mind
about their intentions, they soon evaporated as Earl placed his arm
across my shoulders. Judy sat so close to me that I felt her body heat
the length of my figure. And then she placed her hand on my knee. 

"Earl tells me you're a wild little thing, Elizabeth," she murmured, her
voice throaty and seductive. "I love wild things, don't I, hon?" Her
hand drifted down my leg, coyly pressing her long red fingernails
against my nylons. 

"We both love wild things," Earl said softly into my ear. He began
nibbling on my earlobe, swabbing my ear with his tongue. He pulled me
closer to him. Judy's hand had moved up under my skirt and was caressing
my inner thighs, my moist opening. She started to pull my pantyhose
down, and I lifted my bottom from the couch. Their touches were
inflaming me from my scalp to my soles. 

Earl began kissing me with that maddening tongue, wriggling the tip of
it deep in my mouth like a rattlesnake's tail, flicking my tonsils. Judy
was hastily undressing me. With the sure, quick hands of an experienced
woman, she stripped me naked all the while her husband fucked me in the
mouth with his tongue. 

Earl came off my lips and watched his wife as she began licking and
slobbering between my legs. "Lick that cunt," he whispered gutturally.
"Ah, yeah, baby, eat that good pussy." 

He cupped my breasts in his hands and fed on my nipples with his teeth,
nipping gently, just to the verge of pain, an exquisite sharpness which
spread like white heat across my bosom. Their hands seemed to have a
thousand fingers which stroked and probed into all the secret hollows of
my body and sex. 

Judy's mouth planted on my vagina was the best thing I've ever felt, her
tongue, a darting snake into the deepest pit of my sex-pocket. Earls'
white briefs strained from his groin as the thin material sheathed his
growing erection. Judy clutched at the hardening mass and freed the
cockhead from his waistband. Earl stripped them off impatiently. Then,
still feeding in my vagina, she blindly sought my trembling hand and
directed it onto his hard cock. Her hand covered mine as we stroked him
in a languid pumping motion. 

Earl held my face to his. He stuck out his tongue and wagged it lewdly
from side to side, wetting his lips and slobbering a bit. "Do you wanna
suck my cock?" he asked lasciviously. 

I had begun melting inside, my organs loosened and quaking under the
silken ecstasy of Judy's electrifying mouth on my pussy. I twisted
sideways on the couch, one leg draped to the floor, spread-eagled, with
the other leg thrown to the back of the seat, my head lolling against
Earl, and Judy bringing me to the first jolting climax. I arched my
pelvis and almost screamed with delight as the shuddering tremors ran
through my groin. Earl squatted up on the end of the couch, his legs
bent and spread, cock jutting almost to his knees. I brought my face to
his cock. Earl gently wedged the fat head between my lips. 

Then Earl took both hands off my head and skinned his cock back and it
felt like something being born inside my mouth, a slow unsheathing of
the swollen plum, swelling even further and becoming smoother, wetter. I
felt the tiny nubbles of his excited organ on my tongue, pebbled flesh
causing friction as he wedged more meat inside. There was no way any
woman could have taken much of the shaft, and Earl seemed to be
satisfied for me to hold the head and swab it with my tongue. 

I pushed his hands aside and put both of mine around his shank, and
tried to suck as much dick as I could. Earl began swaying his hips from
side to side, up and down and around like you would a screwdriver trying
to gouge a larger hole in a wall. The flange of his knob was wedged in
back of my teeth, my lips locked onto it. His immense balls hung low in
their bag, swinging against my chin as he thrust his loins against my
face. 

Judy was finger-fucking herself as she speared her long tongue deep into
my spiraling depths. She suddenly came off my pussy and let out a long,
wavering sigh, shivering with pleasure, her eyes closed, climaxing and
masturbating herself more swiftly. Her mouth opened and she groaned,
"Aahhhh, yes!" 

Earl pulled my mouth off his cock. "Let's get to bed, I'm getting close
to cumming." 

In less time than it takes to set down, we three were plugged together
like serial lights on a Christmas tree. I was on the bed on my back,
legs spread and Earl penetrated my juicy vagina with ease. His immense
cock filled me so deeply, I feared he was pushing his cockhead into my
belly. It was a whole new experience for me, but they awakened some
hidden craving for lust-drugged pleasure. I pulled Judy on top of me,
facing Earl, her pussy at my mouth. 

For the first time in my life, I sucked into the rich yielding pudding
of a cunt. I heard them kissing madly above me, but was feverishly awash
with the drenching ecstasy of eating the sex of another woman, while
being fucked like a bitch in heat by her husband. 

Judy and Earl both fondled and kneaded my fully aroused tits, and my
nipples felt as hard as eraser caps. They unlocked their lips and went
all verbal on me. 

Judy hissed, "Fuck'er! Fuck'er! Suck my cunt!" "Ah, yeah!" Earl gasped.
"Sweet fucking pussy! So good! Pull her ass open, Judy." 

Judy bent over me, her tits bobbling against mine and dug up under my
buttocks. She palmed my butt-cheeks apart, and stroked through the moist
cleavage of my ass-trench. She fingered my hole and I felt her gliding
her palm around Earl's root as the thrusting club sawed in and out of my
vagina. 

"Good God!" I panted as I felt another wave of orgasm hit between my
legs like a rip-tide of ecstatic torment. Earl plowed into me with
renewed vigor, hunching his lower back more rapidly, harder and harder,
and undulating his groin, his cock touching every soft yielding custard
of my sex-flesh, battering into my guts with a demented fury. 

"Fuck that cunt, baby," Judy slurred. "Show'er what a real man's cock is
like. Set that pussy on fire!" 

She turned around to me. "Finger fuck me, sweetie. Make me cum some
more." She spread her legs wide above me and I inserted three fingers
held tightly together. She sank her smooth-fleshed loins all the way
down on my hand and fucked herself like a brood sow, grunting and
groaning as I brought her off time and time again. 

"Pull out when you're ready to shoot!" Judy barked at Earl. "Wanna get a
good look at my man's cream." 

"I don't --- I don't ---" Earl gasped. "--- think I can!" he yelped, and
I felt him start spurting inside me. That was all it took. 

Like the splitting tremors of an earthquake, and the dwindling
aftershocks, my body stuttered and jerked, shuddered and writhed under
the force of an explosive orgasm, which seemed to last an hour, on and
on, it roiled and rippled through my sex, tearing holes through every
shred of my maddened senses. 

Earl managed to haul his spewing cock out of my well-fucked hole and
shot a broad stream of his man-juice across my heaving breasts. Then a
final streaking spit of his milk, popped a rope of creamy pearls under
my neck that would've made Liz Taylor jealous. Judy was on the white
stuff in an instant, licking my tits and sucking up her husband's spunk
like the sweetest honey she'd ever tasted. 

She really could make an absolutely heavenly pecan pie, which we shared
in comfortable nudity around their kitchen table. Our menage a trois
lasted until Lance came home from Nam a few months later with a shoulder
wound. It was serious enough to keep him from being returned, and I
loved him more than ever, glad for his injury, in fact. 

But Lance thought he could teach innocent little me some of the tricks
he'd picked up from his Asian whores. We get along famously with Earl
and Judy.


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